


Acquaintance

by werpiper



Series: Fade to Snow [2]
Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Premature Ejaculation, Prostate Milking, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-28 17:43:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werpiper/pseuds/werpiper
Summary: Third part written but second in the action in the "Fade to Snow" series  <3Much with the smut.





	Acquaintance

His cock sprang forth as if reaching into her hand, iron-hard as Steve thrust upward, his voice louder now and breathily wordless. "Above average" he might well be, but at that his erection was smaller than Nubia's magically-emergent form, and Diana grinned. Steve yelped and she gentled her mouth to a proper kiss. She wrapped her hand around his length and stroked him, the slickness dripping from the end of his cock achingly reminiscent of a wet, wanting cunt. She rubbed her thumb through it and he gasped again, "Oh god, Diana..!" -- this time with a desperate gasp like a warning -- and then he convulsed, burying hands and face in her hair as he came, fluid pulsing out upon the still-fastened front of his shirt.

"Oh," he said afterwards, "I'm sorry, that was too fast, I'm --" Diana lifted her head from his chest, meeting Steve's eyes.

"Too fast? For what?" She loosened her grip; he was probably oversensitive.

"For you," he whispered, closing his eyes as his cheeks flushed and his cock softened. "I wanted, I wanted to fuck you, if that would be all right -- the innkeeper gave me a German _gummi_...."

Diana's heart warmed; that was thoughtful, both of the innkeeper and of Steve. "We have time and many choices," she said. "Perhaps I could fuck you first?"

"What...?"

"Book eight is devoted to the particular features of maleness," she reminded him, then chuckled. "How well-read are you in these matters?"

Steve flushed darker. "Magazines, mostly. In French. And okay, so they're mostly pictures, and mostly of women," he finished defiantly. Diana laughed aloud.

"Let me further your knowledge, then." She rolled away and found her swordbelt. The God-Killer apparently never dulled, but she cleaned and oiled it anyway, and blade-oil had many uses. She picked up the little bottle, noticed Steve watching with some apprehension. "If you don't like something, you must tell me so, and we will stop," she said, wondering if he really even knew that much about sharing pleasure.

He met her eyes, and she thought she saw him learning while she watched. He swallowed and said, "Yes. All right, I will."

She thought her heart might break with tenderness as she put the bottle in his hands. "Hold this close, to warm it," she said as she lay down. She rolled him onto his side, curling up behind him. His behind was narrow between her hips, though his shoulders were as broad as hers, and she was perfectly placed to kiss the nape of his neck. One arm slid under his neck so she could cradle his face, the other reached around to stroke his thigh.

Steve relaxed like a cat in her lap. "I'm not used to being the little spoon," he said, but it did not sound like a complaint. She murmured back to him in Greek, so he could not considered be offended at being called _little kitten_ even as he cuddled back into her, nearly purring. Her hand wandered to his inner thigh, then pressed up between his legs, searching for the sensitive space behind his sac. Slowly she pressed there, softly at first, then more firmly until he squirmed a little and breathed out, a hard little "Huh...."

"Does that feel good?" she asked, switching back to English. She felt quite certain it did, but it was needful that he say.

"Umm. Yes. I'm not.... ready again yet, though." He sounded apologetic, and she kissed him through the silken edges of his hair.

"You're ready to feel good, and that's all we shall want," she declared. She crooked her fingers to use two knuckles instead, pressing and parting them, and he pushed one leg back against her to make space. "Very good," she told him, and he made the almost-purring sound again.

On the strength of that approval, she stretched her thumb back beneath him, searching for his hole. When she found it he lifted his head, though his voice was still languorous as he said, "Huh, whatcha doing...?"

Diana sighed internally; she had expected that sooner or later cultural differences would make themselves known in this context. So she tried to keep her voice humorously pedantic. "Touching you," she said, "in a way any kind of body might enjoy. Though there is a particular gift of masculinity here," she added, kneading a little harder with her knuckles, "which I would like to try with you...?" It was not hard to turn tone at the last into an entreaty.

Steve groaned, then answered "Sure...." at the end of it. Diana smiled into his neck, then slowly removed her hand from between his legs.

He groaned again and she whispered, "Uncork the bottle now, and pour a little oil in my hand." Steve obeyed, and she felt the warm trickle upon her palm. "That's enough," she said, and he parted his legs further. She liked the feeling of that, but she had not the tools to take best advantage of their positions. So she kissed his nape again and told him, "Onto your belly now."

Again he did as she said, which was a pleasure unto itself. Diana sat up beside him, spilling her handful of oil into the hollow at the small of his back. She rubbed both her hands in it -- there was more than enough even for her sword-calloused fingers. She slicked some up along the sides of his spine and set to massaging the tense muscles, and Steve's next sound was frustration and pain and pleasure mixed into a wonder so singular that Diana shivered to hear it.

She worked her way up to his neck, unknotting the tensions of fighting and lying and fear, until he lay as lax as an innocent beneath her hands. Then she stroked his sides down to his ass, felt a different tautness enter as her fingers pressed the rises and divots of his muscles there. She ran her fingers through the little pool of oil again, making sure they were as slick and smooth as circumstances allowed, then drew them with inexorable slowness down into his cleft. He took a hard breath in, as she expected, so she was ready to say, "Now breathe out, very slow."

As he did, she crooked her smallest finger inside, and there was no resistance in him at all. Very gently she pressed, searching, and he murmured -- he sounded happy enough, but -- "Ahh!? What, ah, whuh --" 

"Do you like that?" she asked, holding very still.

"Yes, sure, but what even _is_....?" He trailed off, trying to catch his breath. Diana curled her finger minutely, and the wind caught in his throat.

"Something some males have," she said, then added cautiously, "not all. Lucky you." Steve laughed, a breathy full-bodied tremor that rippled around the penetration. When he quieted, she instructed him: "Now breathe with me as I move."

He obeyed, or tried to. Little gasps escaped without warning, and she mocked him a little by following those with a little more wiggle or tickle, until he was roaring and panting and crying out. She enjoyed that until he started to sound hoarse, and then she slowed down. She stilled her hand, dropped her head next to his, and asked, "Are you thirsty?"

It took him some time to answer. She rubbed their cheeks together, finding the texture of shaved skin exotic, if not entirely pleasant. "Yeah, I think I am," said Steve at length. "But I don't want to stop."

"We can start again." She sat up, spotted the oil-bottle among the pillows, and poured a little more to ease the slide out. He sighed again as she did. "Water or wine?"

"Water first," he said, and Diana thought her many mentors would approve. She wiped her hands on a corner of the bedsheet, then filled a glass from the pitcher on the bedside -- their hosts really were most thoughtful. Steve rolled onto his side and drank greedily. After several swallows, he stared down at himself in disbelief and poked his cock. "Damn, it's only halfway hard, and I thought it was going to fall _off_....?"

She laughed. "One doesn't need to be hard for this to work." Poor untutored, short-lived men -- it was as bad as Clio's book had told. But Steve's pleasure was as sweet as anyone's, more precious then to Diana than her own. She wanted as much of it as they could find. "Wine, now? It won't make you harder, but maybe more relaxed, which is good."

"Yes, please." He passed the glass back to her, and she refilled it from the bottle. He drank that more slowly, and licked his lips. "This is good," he said, "I think the innkeeper is spoiling us."

"She's showing her appreciation," Diana corrected. But when he gave her the glass again and she tasted the wine, it far exceeded her expectations -- dark and sweet, heavy as honey on her tongue. She finished it and drank a glass of water while Steve watched, gazing upon her with his mouth a little open and his eyes crinkled up at their corners. Then she refilled it with wine, drank again, and handed it back. "If you relax," she suggested, "I could try giving you two fingers."

He stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth as his face passed through a comic series of expressions. Diana held quite still, and after a moment Steve chuckled and said, "You're so beautiful. Do you even know how amazing you are?" He didn't wait for an answer before raising the wine and drinking, slow and deep. "Diana," he said her voice with reverence, "I'd do anything for you. And anything you want to try, I'd do. Because you're amazing." He chuckled again, and added, "I just said that."

"You can say it as much as you like." She was flattered and gratified, and when she took the cup back she lifted it before drinking herself and said, "To your pleasure!"

"And I hope to yours," said Steve, and she nodded. 

She nodded as she set the empty cup aside. "They go together." Steve looked very beautiful, pale and trusting and sprawled open before her on the bed. Diana used pillows to prop him up to best advantage and he allowed it, very relaxed now, all his strength hers to guide. Then she oiled her hands again and caressed him. His cock was still half-hard, dark and glistening upon his belly, and his mouth was slack with desire. He raised his hips and she slid both hands across his ass, separating the sides, teasing the opening with her fingertips. His mouth went taut as he ground back upon her, and she gave him two fingers right away, and not the smallest. He winced a little and his cock twitched, and he pushed himself down hard into her hand, rocking slightly back and forth. He went harder and harder and she went with him, spreading her fingers, reaching and twisting and stroking inside. There was no sound but his sounds, no sight but the moonlight on his form. At length, he arched and groaned and ejaculated -- still not hard, but seemingly endlessly, jolt after jolt compressing her fingers and spreading pale liquid on his belly.

When he had quieted he reached for Diana and pulled her down to his chest. Her fingers popped out audibly and he clung to her, as if to maintain their connection; she tasted clean sweat on his skin. "Diana," he said with quiet reverence, and then again "Diana," as if he had no other words.

"Steve," she answered, and that seemed to be enough too. She felt clean and light and perfectly content. She squirmed closer and embraced him, closing her eyes.

"Now don't you dare fall asleep yet," he said chidingly, and Diana let one eye open again. Steve's lids were heavy, but his smile glinted with mischief. "I've got hands too, and I haven't had enough of you yet."


End file.
